Watercolors
by simplycharmed-xo
Summary: A one-shot between one of my favorite pairings, Deamus. It seems Dean just can't stop staring at his best friend, there's something so artistically beautiful about him. His hand itched to draw him and how could he, as an artist, ignore that calling?


**(A/N: This is the exact same one shot you may have seen before. I posted it on another account once, I can't even remember the name, and lost the email and password. So, I've uploaded it again. Here you go! ~ Marie Michaels)**

Dean simply couldn't stop staring at Seamus who was lousing on the couch watching the fire with his bright blue eyes fading behind his drooping lids. He was a perfect mess; there was simply no other way to describe it. His shirt was no longer tucked in and a couple of the buttons were undone. No shoes and missing one sock while the other nearly about to fall off, Seamus looked about ready for bed. His hair was also in a chaotic state as if he had just blown something up once again, minus the ash on his face. Dean chuckled at the memory from their first year. The two boys had definitely gotten closer since that fateful day.

Finally the urge for Dean just became too great. He had to draw Seamus. So silently, as not to disturb his best friend, he pulled out his sketch pad and his pencils. Flipping to the next available page you could see other drawings, mostly of Seamus of course. Yes, this was not the first time the urge had popped up. It was there constantly, growing each day until it became unbearable. Today had been one of those days.

So he began to draw.

And he drew every detail.

Every little detail that was seen by others around and the details that on Dean himself could see, it was now permanently etched onto paper. Sitting on the armchair next to the couch, Dean became so engrossed in his new masterpiece that he did not see Seamus now sitting up looking at him. Seamus studied his best mate, smirking that "I know what you're doing" smile. He didn't mind though, not one bit. He thought it was pretty awesome that he was Dean's muse. Seamus knew that if he had the talent, he would draw the dark-skinned boy. Because he was his muse.

"Ya know, if you really wanted to draw me, you could've just asked." Seamus joked heartily. Dean jumped slightly in his chair, his pencil falling to the floor while his sketchpad lay in his lap. Dean laughed nervously, shuffling awkwardly in his seat. His face was starting to burn up.

"What?" he stammered slightly, snatching his things back into his arms and making sure Seamus could not see a thing. Seamus stood up and walked towards his friend, pulling the sketchpad away even though Dean tried fighting back.

Flipping through the pages casually, smirking his goddamn smirk, and said casually, "You know these are good. It's not easy to capture my good looks. Not even with a camera!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "You make it seem like your some male model."

"Am I not?" Seamus laughed, waving the sketchpad slightly in Dean's face. Swiftly, Dean seized his sketchpad back, frowning slightly at his friend. He didn't enjoy how his best mate was poking fun at his drawings.

Seamus shrugged and sat back down on the edge of the couch hazing at Dean, who had gone back to his sketching pouting. Seamus smiled. Even though he knew he had made Dean upset, he couldn't help but think how cute his pouting was. Well actually, Seamus thought anything Dean did was just fucking adorable. From his little black poof-y afro that you just want to pet constantly to his large chocolate eyes always blinking at everyone innocently, it was hard not to find Dean attractive. Because, well, he was so goddamn attractive.

"So can I draw you?" Dean asked suddenly, startling Seamus from his gazing.

"What?"

"You said I could draw you if I asked," he stated softly, awkwardly moving in his chair again and avoiding any eye contact with his best mate. "So may I draw you?"

Seamus blinked stupidly, now feeling a bit awkward himself. He was just joking after all. Muttering, "Uh, sure. Go ahead," with his hands gesturing towards himself. Dean gave a half-way grin, almost laughing at Seamus' now awkward state.

"Out there," he said, point outside the window that was overlooking the lake. "I've never drew anything by the lake before."

Seamus agreed, trying to take it all good naturedly, but failing with his now red cheeks. Dean grabbed his bag, putting his sketchbook and pencils inside it, and Seamus put his shoes back and they headed out. Shoulder to shoulder as usual, they made mindless small talk. Seamus was now starting to feel a bit blushed about this all, Dean was noticing. He reveled in this once in a lifetime ability to have something against Seamus to make him feel the way he usually did when around him. Blushed.

The sun outside was starting to fade and beginning to turn into nightfall, but there was still quite a bit time before supper. There was a slight chill, but the wind was only blowing gently considering it was a late autumn afternoon. The trees were already starting to shed their leaves making a red, gold, brown path for the boys to walk on. It was beautiful, and Dean knew once they had found the right pose for Seamus, the picture would be equally if not more beautiful. Arriving at the murky green lake, Dean put his bag down as Seamus now scoured the lake with his eyes.

"So what do I do?" Seamus asked, turning back towards his friend who was observing him with that 'artistic stare' he would often get. Dean shrugged, sitting cross legged on the grass with his sketchpad and pencils out in front of him.

"Just do what you would normally do if you came down here," Dean instructed him, grabbing a pencil and twirling it in between his fingers. "And when inspiration hits me, I'll tell you to freeze."

Seamus looked around him, confused. He wasn't exactly sure what to do now. He never really was a model before, and now that he knew Dean was drawing him he felt lost. Yet he did what Dean asked him to do. Cautiously, he picked up and rock, weighed it in his hand, and then threw it. Watching it as it skipped across the water, Seamus smiled and bent down to pick up another rock and started to repeat the steps from before, but stopped.

"Freeze!" yelped Dean, who was now hastily grabbing his sketchbook and flipping to a fresh page. "Stay in that pose right there."

Seamus tensed every muscle in his body. He had just about been ready to throw the second rock out into water. Dean began sketching. The sound of the pencil scratching on the paper was the only thing Seamus could hear. He had such a strong compulsion to turn his head to get a look at Dean doing his thing, but knew he would only get scolded. So he held still. Continuously. Even though the wind was starting to pick up, he remained still. Even though his nose itched, he did not move. The things he did for Dean. It was so hard for him, because he was not the type of person to be kept still.

It felt like hours to Seamus, though in fact it had only been 45 minutes. Dean had actually finished the sketch 15 minutes prior, but this was the first time Seamus had ever remained so still and Dean was going to soak in every moment. Once he finished the sketch, he went back over it with a black pencil and darkened the lines carefully making it become much more defined. Then he had an idea. He decided he wanted to make the picture come alive. So he started coloring.

"Are you almost done?" questioned Seamus anxiously, who's arm was now twitching slightly. Dean grinned.

"Just a little bit longer," he insisted, focusing back on the drawing.

He started with the hair first. His brown, silky hair that was reflecting light off from the sun. Then he colored in his clothes. The untucked white shirt with a questionable muddy stain on the side of it, the loosened gryffindor tie, the crinkled pants, and the scuffed shoes. He made sure everything was accurate. Dean then started coloring Seamus' face. The dark arches of his eyebrows, the rosiness of his cheeks, his light blue eyes, and the pink color of his lips. Everything that Seamus was, was in that picture. Dean smiled lovingly at his new piece of perfection.

"I don't think I can hold this much longer." Seamus warned and he was right. His legs were now starting to twitch and he was beginning to sway slightly towards the water. Dean laughed, and continued on finishing the final details of his picture.

His legs no longer being able to hold him any longer finally just gave out and Seamus was met with a whole lot of water. Shocked, he had gasped and unfortunately swallowed a mouthful of that saltiness. When he finally floated back to the top, all he heard was his own sputtering and Dean laughing hysterically. Seamus glared at his best mate, who was hunched over giggling. Dean couldn't help himself. It was funny.

"Sorry, mate, here." Dean grinned, coming over to help him out of the water, but Seamus had other ideas. As soon as Dean was close enough, Seamus grabbed him and pulled him underneath the murky water.

Dean gasped slightly, then immediately clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to inhale any of it. Seamus was being a feisty little bastard, pushing down on Dean's shoulders to prevent him from coming up. Fine, Dean could fight back. He placed his hands on Seamus' waist side and began tickling him. Instantly Seamus had a spastic attack and flinched away from Dean giving him leeway to turn the odds around. Dean wove his arms tightly around Seamus' waist, who was now struggling to pull away and failing. The two of them were now floating on the surface, with Dean's arms still around Seamus.

"I win." Dean declared triumphantly, laughing in Seamus' ear. No, that just wouldn't do for Seamus. Going only by his will to win and his instincts, or perhaps love?, Seamus twisted himself around, grabbed the back of Dean's head, and kissed him rough and hard.

Dean was shocked, and for the briefest of moments thought about pulling away, but that thought instantly melted away as quickly as it came. His temperature was surely rising; the coldness of the water seemed to have no effect on either of them. So Dean did exactly what his urges compelled him to do and responded back enthusiastically. His arms still around Seamus' waist, he clung to him even closer than before, feeling everything. Both their lips were now starting to swell at the roughness Seamus was applying on the dark-haired boy's salty lips. Eventually, after what seemed only a short minute to Dean, although it had been much longer, Seamus pulled back and smirked his goddamn smirk at Dean.

"No. I win."

He didn't know what to stay, so he didn't say anything. He stared at his beautiful best mate with newfound shyness, not knowing what to do or say anymore. What was there to say? So neither said anything, they just swam ashore, back to the spot where they had stood not so long ago; when things had been so normal and now they were so much more. It was extraordinary, really. As if it were a memory that seemed like a long ago dream Dean and Seamus wished to become a reoccurring one. With their clothes dripping wet, Dean's eyes darted around, anxiously wondering if anyone had seen. All the while Seamus walked with a bit of swagger in step, a crooked grin that regretted nothing.

Dean had went to go get his drawing pad, so the two could head back in to change and then for some dinner, but it wasn't that simple. When the chocolate-eyed boy had gone to grab his new masterpiece to take to the room, he saw that the drawing journal had been entirely too close to the water and when the boy had been pulled into the water … backlash. Dean almost felt as if he could cry, tears already welling up in the boy's dark eyes, as he took in the sight of the mixing colors he had only just finished coloring. Now the whole picture looked like a 5 year olds painting they had created with water colors.

Seamus, noticing the tense stand his best mate had taken, came quickly to see what was causing Dean so much distress. It broke his heart, to say the least because it did not fully describe how his heart fell and how guilty he felt, when he saw what it was. He was no artist and he did not create this masterpiece, but he knew his best mate had worked hard on it. The once-grinning boy knew how much he had loved and for him to see the befallen face of Dean killed him. He loathed himself, then and there, to know that he had caused him so much pain and killed his once dimple-smiled face. Seamus wanted to hurt himself, though he didn't know what physical pain could amount to this.

"I-I'm sorry, mate …" Seamus choked out, placing his large hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "This is my fault entirely. I don't know how I can make it up to you, but I promise I'll find a way."

Dean didn't say anything; he didn't know what to say. He was numb now, not angry or depressed like that brief flashes of it moments ago, just numb. He didn't blame Seamus, of course. It was only an accident after all and when he had first saw the disaster only a moment ago, he wanted to sob. Yet now the chocolate-eyed boy didn't know how he felt. It was only a picture, as beautiful as it once was, and even though he had worked hard on it, he couldn't feel any anger towards Seamus for pulling him that lead to the destruction. In fact, Dean felt a little thankful towards him, because what had happened while in the lake gave him some new inspiration.

Matter of fact, Dean may have just thought up his next new masterpiece. It would be far more beautiful than the last one; filled with more intimate and personal feelings than before. In his head, he was reminiscing about the kiss, with a wistful look. And he'd use watercolors this time. It'd be wonderful, a remembrance of his new favorite memory. Dean looked towards his mate's miserable-looking face, giving him a small smile and capturing his pale hands in his darker ones, squeezing it tightly.

"It's fine." He insisted eagerly, a small smirk pulling at his lips."I don't regret anything."


End file.
